


Nuclear Decay

by Spammy_Wits



Series: It's a Figure of Speech [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Established Relationship, Future, Jade-Colored Glasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 23:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9521120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spammy_Wits/pseuds/Spammy_Wits
Summary: With struggling breath he lies there, feline in form and state, ready to rest, slipping through slumber. Unfeeling.





	

Dusk was ever present inside his house, inside his head, an ever present litany of deprecating thoughts swallowing him from the deepest corners of the mind. He stumbled through the rooms with weakened limbs and glazed eyes searching, hoping and grieving. His light was gone once again and his world was reduced to endless hallways and maddening sounds; the dripping of water, the ticking of a clock, the electrical stutter from behind the walls and beneath the floor. A black blur would float in front of him every now and then and he’d scream in silence. No sun to ground him, no star to point the way. If only…

 

Quantum physics argued that since time is the dimension that humans dwell in, that they might not perceive it; the truth of that hypothesis could not be denied when stuck in a limbo of nausea and ache.

 

No trick of the mind has ever been so effective as that of eternity, so alluring, so utterly and irrevocably unforgiving. And so; He stood alone, lurking in the darkness and fading ever so slightly, slowly.

 

He navigated with blind eyes through rooms of scattered canvases of dreams and carcasses of food and drink, a sea of threads and bottles, of satin and empty cans. Should he die now he’d be grateful, he’d look at his demise with unalloyed glee, yet he couldn’t, he was a man of his word, he was figuratively tied of hands, he was literally bound.

 

In a daze he kicked his way in, forcing space to make place for him as he’s been doing since so long ago. He remembers clearly how it all began, that memory only serves to feed his drowsiness, he felt so tired and lonely.

 

With struggling breath he lies there, feline in form and state, ready to rest, slipping through slumber. Unfeeling.

 

He doesn’t know how long it’s been but when he opens his eyes once again, it’s because of a key cursing the door knob to eternal damnation, a chirring sound that echoes in his ears long after it’s gone.

 

One by one, a click and a light, a step and a startle. Heels hit the ceramics with higher frequency every time. But the room doesn’t light up, a knee places itself between his abdomen and a paper bag and the brightness behind her becomes a halo to be awed at. Soft warm fingers tangle in his hair after pressing down on his neck, he can hear faint whispers and running water, he can smell sweet dough (maybe _tant pour tant),_ flowery parfum and delicate fondness.  

 

She’s back from her business trip.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take on what the future may be for the heroes without solving any of their personal issues first.
> 
> Separation anxiety and chronic depression for Adrien is first on the list, specially if his parents end up being the villains of the story.


End file.
